


Methane Skies

by like_a_stray



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Music, Peterick, Song Inspired, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15540552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_a_stray/pseuds/like_a_stray
Summary: A collection of oneshots loosely based off of songs.





	1. Pinkish

_Now I could have_   _been_

 _Washed away_  

_Rescue me, mother_

_Fragile and holding my hand_

_Accidents, grades_

_Marks that we left on each other_

_Pinkish in color again_

 ❀   _  
_

"Push me!" A six-year-old Gerard screeched to his mom, who was currently balancing his two-year-old brother Mikey on her hip.  "Alright, let me get the baby in his swing first and then I can push you both." His mother answered, setting Mikey in the small swing with holes cut out for the legs. She gave him a small push and hurried over to Gerard. 

"I just need a few pushes, Momma. Then I can do it myself!" He squealed proudly. 

"That's great, Gee!" She responded, giving Gerard a few pushes on his swing until he started pumping his small legs to keep himself going. He never went too high because he was scared of falling off the swing or swinging so high that he went over the bar on the top. His mother had told him several times that it was almost impossible for his swing to go over the bar but he refused to believe it and was still terrified of it happening.

Mikey began to wail and Gerard watched his mother lift him from the swing and attempt to calm him down. Gerard waited for his swing to get very low before he jumped off of it, landing smoothly and luckily not breaking any bones. His mother had also warned him that if he jumped off too high that he might get hurt, so he always waited for the swing to get low so he wouldn't hurt his feet.

"That was cool!"

Gerard turned towards where the voice had called. There was a young boy around his age sitting on the bridge connecting two play structures, his small legs dangling off of the edge. He recognized the boy from his school, but they had been in different kindergarten classes. "Thanks!" He called, going over to one of the structures and going up the stairs like a good boy. His mom always told him not to go up the slide. He plopped down next to the boy, swinging his legs over the side as well.

"I'm Frank." The boy said. "I'm five and I  _love_ superheroes. Spiderman is my favorite."  

"I'm Gerard and I just turned six. I like Batman, but Spiderman is my second favorite. He's cool." Gerard said, smiling brightly at Frank. "What first-grade class are you in?" Gerard asked, hoping that he and Frank would be in the same class when school started in September.

"Ms. Jones," Frank answered.

"Me too!" Gerard said excitedly. "Yay!" Frank yelled.

"Hey, Frankie?" Gerard asked.

"Yeah?" 

"Race 'ya!"

Both boys took off, running down the playground and off to the end of the mulch."I won!" Frank squealed. Gerard laughed. "Let's go sit on the bridge again." 

Once they were both up on the bridge, Frank spoke up. "Do you wanna play superheroes? You can be Batman!"

"Yeah! And you can be Spiderman!" Gerard said, jumping to his feet. "Batman and Spiderman will save the day!" Frank squealed, jumping from the bridge. Gerard gasped in horror. "Frankie! You could get very hurt if you do that!" 

"I'm not Frankie! I'm Spiderman and Spiderman never gets hurt!" Frank said, making his voice sound deeper. "Oh. Okay!" Gerard said, deciding to take the slide down instead of jumping off. "Batman! Look over there!" Frank said, pointing to an empty swing. "Those bad guys are trying to take the swings away! Let's get 'em!" 

Both boys ran over to the swing as fast as their stubby legs would take them, 'punching' imaginary villains before Frank threw himself at the swing, landing on his stomach and sticking his arms out. "It's like flying! Try it, Batman!" Frank yelled. Gerard lay on the swing next to Frank's and began to mimic his actions.

Unfortunately, Gerard was just a bit too far forward on the swing and he ended up tumbling forward, faceplanting in the mulch. He let out a loud cry, attempting to sit up but his feet were still caught on the swing, causing him to faceplant again.

He finally got himself off on the ground and into a sitting position ad he reached up to cup his throbbing nose when he felt something wet. He pulled his hand away and screamed loudly. There was blood pouring from his nose and getting all over his gray t-shirt. He started sobbing and Frank sat next to him, looking worried. "Gee? Do you want me to get your mommy?" He asked.

Gerard sobbed and nodded, still cupping his nose. Frank stood up and ran toward the woman he saw Gerard with before. "Are you Gerard's Mommy?" He asked the woman, who was holding a sleeping child against her.

"Yes. Why?" She asked, instantly feeling concerned. Frank looked upset and frightened and that scared her. "He fell off of a swing and now his nose is bleeding!" Frank exclaimed and Gerard's mother handed the sleeping boy off to her husband and grabbed a few packs of tissues from her large bag. Frank led her to Gerard, who was sitting on the ground and sobbing. He had mulch in his hair and blood all over his hands and face. 

"Momma," He whined, crawling forward to his mother. "Here, hold these on your nose." She told him, crouching down and handing him a few tissues. Gerard tearfully explained to her what happened while he tried to get the bleeding to stop. After a few minutes, the bleeding had stopped, but she was worried that his nose was broken.

"Let momma see." She said, pulling his hands away from his nose. She gently felt along the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't feel broken, so that's good. No more swinging on your stomach, okay?"

"I wanna go home," He whimpered. "I'm hurtin', momma." 

"Alright. Say goodbye to your friend, honey." She urged. Other parents were starting to give her and her blood-soaked child strange looks and she wanted to get him home and cleaned up as soon as possible. Gerard stood up, walking over to Frank and hugging him. "Bye, Frankie. I'll miss you." He said, burying his face in Frank's shoulder.

"Can we be best friends, Gee?" he asked. Gerard nodded and smiled. Frank pulled away and stared at Gerard a moment before pressing a quick kiss to his nose. 

"Why'd you do that?" Gerard questioned, tilting his head. "Whenevers I get hurted my mommy kisses it better," Frank answered, smiling. "So I wanted to kiss your nose better!" He frowned suddenly, sticking his lower lip out. "I sorry that you got hurted. It's my fault."

"No, it's okay! You kissed it better! I'm okay now." 

"You're welcome. Bye, Gee!" 

"Bye, Frankie!" 

❀ 

A seventeen-year-old Gerard smiled at his boyfriend, who had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.  "If you're not gonna light it then give it to me." He said.  "I'm gonna light it! Jesus." Frank exclaimed, a grin growing on his face. "I was tryna get you mad."

"Asshole," Gerard retorted.

"Nerd." Frank countered.

"Dick."

"Cocksucker."

"Yeah, I sucked yours last night." Gerard giggled. 

The two boys were at the old playground they met at, sitting on the bridge, legs dangling over the side. It was two A.M and there was no other human being in sight. Frank lit his cigarette and then another, handing the second one to Gerard. Gerard leaned against Frank's shoulder and took a drag, exhaling the smoke moments later.

"Yeah, you did. And you sucked it real good." Frank finally replied. Gerard instantly felt his face heat up, a strangled yelp leaving his lips. "You brought that upon yourself," Frank said, leaning his head against Gerard's and pressing a soft kiss into his hair.

"I know." Gerard chuckled. Frank pulled away for a moment, running his fingers up and down Gerard's neck. "Did your mom notice these?" He asked, referring to the line of fading hickies trailing up the side of Gerard's neck.

"Mikey noticed them and made a huge deal out of it. Mom pulled me aside later and asked me if we used protection." Gerard answered, flicking ash off of his cigarette. "Later I found a box of condoms on my bed."

Frank inhaled sharply and began to cough and laugh at the same time, small puffs of smoke leaving his mouth as he wheezed. "She gave you condoms?" He asked, hitting his chest with his fist a few times. "Damn. That's hilarious."

"What about your mom? Did she say anything about yours?" Gerard asked.  "She did, but she didn't care. We're old enough to fuck and she knows that. Hell, we're gonna be living together when the school year starts." Frank answered.  They sat together in silence for a few minutes, finishing their cigarettes, when Gerard finally spoke up.

"I'm scared." 

Frank furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head. "Why?"

"I just am. Like, I know we're going to neighboring colleges and living together and all that, but what if we, like, get sick of each other?" Gerard asked.

"We practically already live with each other. We see each other practically every day. We go to each other's houses and just walk in unannounced. We'll be okay." Frank said, pushing some of Gerard's hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. Frank cradled his jaw in one hand and grabbed the back of his head with the other, pulling him in for a kiss. After a few moments, he pulled away just slightly, his lips still brushing Gerard's. "Don't be scared. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. We're doing this together."

Gerard nodded and wrapped his arms around Frank's neck, leaning in and pressing his forehead against his shoulder. "I love you," he said, turning his head to press against Frank's skin, gently kissing the scorpion tattoo there. "I love you too, Gee." Frank murmured after a few more seconds, wrapping one of his arms around Gerard's back and holding him close.

Frank pulled away suddenly and jumped from the bridge, smiling up at Gerard once he landed. "Jump!" 

"And get a nosebleed again? No thanks." Gerard responded. "That was on a swing. The drop here is like, four feet. You'll be okay." Frank insisted. Gerard huffed. "Fine. If I break my foot you have to drive me to the ER." He jumped and landed with no complications."See? You're fine." Frank said, giggling and pecking Gerard's cheek. 

"Hey, Frankie?" 

"Yeah?"

"Race 'ya."


	2. I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi guys. idk why I wrote this I don’t even really ship Peterick but it felt fitting and I really wanted to write it lol. enjoy.
> 
> also slight warning for blood bc patrick gets hit

_They call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone_

_  
But for what we've become, we just feel more alone_

_  
Always weigh what I've got against what I left_

_  
So progress report: I am missing you to death_

❀

Patrick’s life was becoming monotonous again.

Wake up, shower, go to school, come home, do homework, go to sleep. It was the same routine every day, and he was getting tired of it.

He used to love having a routine, doing everything the same every day. It gave him a sense of security. He always walked to school the same way, always went to his classes the same way, and always ate the same thing for lunch.

He liked everything to be the same. He’d used the same toothpaste and body wash and deodorant since he was old enough to decide which one he wanted. They were the same brand they had always been.

That was, until he met Pete.

Patrick was a good student and a good kid in general. He never got in trouble (except for that one time in second grade when he threw his applesauce at a girl in his class) and he always did his schoolwork. He didn’t like taking risks or having things be different than what he was used to.

Patrick was also very quiet. He almost never talked to people in his classes, never answered questions the teacher asked. His participation grade in every class was always very low.

He was nerdy and had thick glasses and choppy hair. He usually wore sweaters that were way too big for him or huge t-shirts. He was very self-conscious and hated wearing tight shirts. He rarely talked to anyone, and no one really talked to him.

Pete was the exact opposite. He never did home or schoolwork, ditched class, and had detention every day. He had been expelled from three schools and arrested twice.

He was loud and obnoxious and had no filter. He said whatever came to his mind whenever he wanted to.

Pete had a bunch of illegal tattoos and dyed hair and he was extremely confident and cocky. He thought he was the most attractive person on the planet.

He intimidated Patrick beyond belief, and he tried to avoid him at all costs.

But they had been assigned as partners for a project in English, and Pete was going to make Patrick write the entire essay and do the PowerPoint by himself, and Pete would just write his name on it when it was finished.

Pete had gone to Patrick’s house to work on the project, and when he sat in Patrick’s bed and did nothing, Patrick really, really wanted to protest.

He ended up staying silent and doing the entire project by himself because he was too shy to speak up.

Their teacher had loved the essay so much that she made them partners for the next project, and Patrick finally gathered the courage to ask Pete to help with the work.

“H-hey, Pete?” Patrick had asked softly. The other boy was laying on Patrick’s bed, his eyes closed. He didn’t move when Patrick spoke to him, he just hummed.

“Can you help me with this?”

That caused Pete to sit up, opening his eyes as he stared at Patrick. “Why should I?”

“Because your mom said you can’t fail another class, and this poem is a huge chunk of our grade. I’m not going to write the whole thing. If we hand it in half-finished, we’ll probably get a failing grade...” He responded, locking eyes with Pete, giving him the pleading look that worked on almost everyone.

Pete scoffed, grabbing Patrick’s school laptop he was using to write the poem. He highlighted everything Patrick had written and hit the backspace key.

“Hey!” Patrick cried out, reaching for the laptop but Pete held it tight.

The assignment was to write a poem about loneliness and how it could destroy a person. Patrick was usually lonely because he didn’t have any friends and only lived with his mother. He thought he would have done a good job on the poem.

Pete began to type, and it was like his fingertips were connected to the brain of a brilliant poet. The words that Pete typed were beautiful. Pete’s understanding of loneliness and the way he portrayed it was the most chilling thing Patrick had read.

Pete began to hide the screen from him. “Just wait until I’m done. It’ll be a surprise.” He said. Patrick smiled and sat back, leaning back on his bed neck to Pete, the sound of the other boy’s fingers on the keyboard soothing him.

“There’s a bit of a creative process, but here’s what I have so far...” Pete said, sliding the laptop onto Patrick’s lap. Patrick opened his eyes, sitting up slowly and beginning to read what Pete had written.

”This is brilliant. How did you even..?” Patrick asked. Pete looked sheepish for a moment but quickly regained his composure.

“I write songs for my band, but I also do poetry. It’s kind of the same thing, but the ones I write for my band aren’t really ones I want to write, y’know? It’s what my band wants me to write. My poetry is what I want to write.” He said, picking at his fingernail and smiling at Patrick.

Patrick smiled back, leaning back on his bed and feeling Pete fall on his back next to him.

❀

Patrick developed a crush on Pete quickly, the other boy being at his house for projects and just for hanging out. Pete usually brought him poetry, and Patrick would attempt to write his own. He didn’t think it was anywhere as good as Pete’s, but the other boy insisted that it was good.

Patrick had bad days a lot when he was just feeling upset or he didn’t feel like talking. Pete was very understanding, and helped Patrick and hung out with him when he was upset.

Pete could usually tell that Patrick was having an off day. He would go to the other boy’s locker and he wouldn’t be waiting there happily with his headphones on, he would be sitting on the floor with his knees against his chest, staring blankly at the wall. Pete never forced him to talk, knowing that some days Patrick would rather stay silent.

Patrick had never cried around Pete until he had an absolutely horrible day and he just couldn’t hold in everything anymore. All the emotions he’d been holding in came out in a massive wave.

His mother had yelled at him that morning for waking up late, but Patrick struggled with even waking up at all that morning. His mother was usually very gentle and kind, but even she lost her temper once in a while.

After school, later on, Patrick was shoved roughly into a locker and called a bunch of homophobic insults. He hadn’t come out to anyone, but the boys who bullied him decided to call him those horrible names anyway.

They did more than call him names, they decided to beat him up that day too. They rarely touched Patrick in any violent way, other than shoving him around a bit. The boys left him there in the hallway for Pete to find.

“Patrick?” He remembered Pete calling. He was curled up tightly on the floor in the hallway, his arms wrapped around his head as he rocked himself slowly in an attempt to calm himself down. He could feel blood dripping from his nose and staining his gray sweater and it made him extremely anxious. Blood terrified him and any time he saw it he would either pass out or panic. He refused to open his eyes in fear of seeing his own blood all over his favorite sweater. He didn’t know if the boys had broken his nose or not, but it was extremely hard to breathe through it.

He remembered Pete kneeling next to him and rubbing his shoulder before helping him up, hugging him tightly. Patrick knew he was bleeding on Pete’s shirt but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Pete led him out of the school and they walked to Pete’s house together, which wasn’t very far. Once they were inside he brought Patrick into his bathroom and began to clean him up.

He cleaned up the blood that was staining Patrick’s lips and chin, before getting one of his shirts for Patrick to wear. He left Patrick in the bathroom for a moment so he could change his shirt, knowing that he hated changing in front of other people.

Patrick came out of the bathroom, wearing Pete’s shirt. He grabbed his biggest one he owned on purpose because he knew Patrick didn’t like tight clothes. He hadn’t said a word to Pete, and he knew better than to push him and make him talk. He just took Patrick’s bloodstained sweater from him and led him into his bedroom, where he let Patrick lay on his bed. The other boy shed his jeans and tossed them onto Pete’s floor, curling up under the blankets on Pete’s bed. They had been friends for a few months at that point and they usually slept over at each other’s houses, so it wasn’t a big deal for either of them that Patrick took his jeans off.

“Can I have your phone? I’ll text your mom and tell her that you’re sleeping over here.”

Patrick motioned to his jeans on the floor and Pete picked them up, reaching into the back pocket and grabbing Patrick’s phone. He quickly texted Patrick’s mother and she responded and said that it was okay.

”She knows now. I’m gonna go downstairs and spray your shirt with this stain stuff we have, okay? I’ll be back in a few.”

Pete hurried to the laundry room where he quickly sprayed Patrick’s shirt and then ran it under cold water, relieved to see the blood coming out of it. He sprayed it down once more, most of the soap coming off when he rinsed it and left it to sit on top of the washing machine.

When he returned to his bedroom, he could barely make out Patrick underneath layers of blankets. It was a Friday night and his parents were out for the weekend, which meant that he could comfort Patrick without his parents hearing.

He flicked the small lamp on his desk on, remembering Patrick’s fear of the dark that he had shyly admitted to him a few nights ago.

He walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge of it and looking at Patrick. “I’m gonna go sleep in my parents’ room.” He said, standing up and throwing another blanket over Patrick. It was April and pretty cold out and he knew Patrick would want to be warm as he slept. When he turned to go, he heard Patrick’s soft, raspy voice for the first time that day.

“Stay.”

He stopped and turned back to the other boy, crawling into bed next to him. Patrick attached to him almost immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around Pete’s neck. It wasn’t unlike them to cuddle or fall asleep in the same bed. Patrick was a very physical person and he loved contact of any kind, as long as it didn’t hurt him. And Pete was more than willing to offer him the attention he needed.

His neck felt wet suddenly, and he looked down to see Patrick’s eyes watering and his lower lip trembling, and he wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist. Patrick began to sob into his neck and Pete rubbed his back, trying his hardest to comfort his best friend.

“I’m here, Pat. I’m here.” He murmured, feeling Patrick’s grip on him tighten with those words.

The next morning, Pete woke up before Patrick and washed and dried his sweater, making sure it was ready for Patrick to wear. Went he went back into his room, Patrick’s arms were on the side of the bed Pete had laid on before. He smiled softly to himself.

”Hey, Pat. It’s time to wake up.” He said, gently shaking Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick groaned and weakly pushed Pete’s hand off of him, mumbling something that sounded like “I don’t want to get up.”

”I’ll make pancakes.” Pete offered. Patrick shot up, his eyes flying open.

”Pancakes?”

Pete grinned. “Yep. Pancakes.”

Patrick threw the blankets off of himself, quickly getting out of bed. “Pancake time.” He said, before turning to Pete and hugging him.

Pete just smiled and returned the embrace. “Thank you,” Patrick whispered, nuzzling into Pete’s shoulder. “It’s no problem, Pat. Really.” Pete assured.

❀

Three days after that, Pete’s mother told him that they were moving. To Nevada.

Pete was extremely shaken up, but there was nothing he could do or say to stop it. He was angry at his parents for uprooting him and moving away from Chicago. He was angry at his father for applying for a job so far from where they lived.

His main concern was Patrick. He knew the other boy was going to be extremely upset and hate him forever. Pete didn’t know how to tell him, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t just disappear one day.

The next day after school at Patrick’s house, Pete told him.

”Patrick, I have something really important to tell you.” Pete began, locking eyes with his best friend and taking a deep breath.

“Y-Yeah?” Patrick answered, looking nervous. His heart was pounding in his chest as he stared back at Pete.

“I’m moving.” Was all Pete said.

“To where?” Patrick asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

“Nevada,” Pete answered.

Patrick’s heart plummeted and his head spun. His chest felt tight as he struggled to pull a breath into his lungs.

“No. You’re fucking with me,” Patrick said, denying it. Pete couldn’t be moving.

“I wish I was.” Was all Pete said, stepping close to Patrick and taking his hand.

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but a choked sob ended up leaving his lips instead. Tears began pouring down his cheeks and his chest heaved.

Pete felt his throat constrict and tears come to his eyes. “I’m leaving next Monday.” He said, trying to give Patrick a little hope. “We still have a week. And after that, we’ll send letters. I’ll send you poems and emails and we won’t lose touch. I promise.”

Patrick said nothing, he just brought his free hand up and put it over his face. Pete pulled him close to his chest, burying his face in Patrick’s soft hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Pete said, tears beginning to make their way down his own face. Patrick clung to Pete like he was going to leave at that very moment and Pete squeezed him back just as hard.

The two stood in Patrick’s room, crying and holding each other before Pete pulled away just slightly, wiping away a few of Patrick’s tears and holding his face in his hands.

He pressed his forehead to Patrick’s, closing his eyes and feeling his soft breathing against his lips.

Pete leaned just a bit closer so that his lips were brushing Patrick’s, giving him a chance to pull away. When Patrick didn’t move, Pete closed the rest of the gap and kissed him softly.

Patrick kissed back just as gently, trying not to cry and break the kiss. He’d had a hopeless crush on Pete for too long and he was thrilled that he reciprocated his feelings.

But Pete was leaving. He was going to leave and Patrick was never going to see him again. He couldn’t help but sob, his lips leaving Pete’s. Pete places his hand on the back of Patrick’s head and pulled his face into his neck, rocking the two of them gently and kissing Patrick’s head. Patrick continued to sob hard, struggling to breathe. He only had another year of high school after this, but he didn’t know what he was going to do after that. What if Pete decided to go to some prestigious writing college in England or Ireland or somewhere far, far away from Patrick, who just wanted to play his guitar and read.

What if Pete’s band made it big and he toured the world and forgot about Patrick? What if he became a famous poet and had no time for his fragile best friend?

Patrick cried himself to sleep against Pete’s neck, dozing off against his smooth skin. Pete carried him a few feet to Patrick’s bed and set him down there, laying next to him and holding him tightly as he wondered what he was going to do.

❀

The day Pete left, Patrick didn’t even want to get out of bed. The two had spent the last week cuddling and kissing and watching movies, trying to spend every minute with each other.

When it came time for Pete to get into his car with his parents, Patrick refused to let go. They were standing on Pete’s yard and holding each other as Patrick hysterically sobbed. Nothing Pete did would calm him down. Pete held his hands and kissed him and tried to make him stop crying but nothing worked. Pete himself was crying but he was trying to hold it together for Patrick. If he lost it, he didn’t know how Patrick would react.

Patrick’s mom was there to pick up his broken pieces and put him back together after Pete had driven away. She was standing off to the side and talking quietly to Pete’s parents as the three of them watched the two teenage boys hold each other like the other would melt if they loosened their grips.

Pete’s mom was the first to speak, misty-eyed as she called out to her son.

”Pete? Sweetie, we really have to go.” She said. Pete didn’t move from where he stood with Patrick held against him.

Patrick knew he had to let go. He knew that saying goodbye to Pete was going to be impossible, but he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Patrick sobbed. Pete nodded, whispering, “I’ll miss you too.”

Pete pulled his arms back to his sides and let go of Patrick, knowing that if he didn’t do it then, they would be there for another day.

“Bye, Patrick,” Pete said, wiping his tears away.

“Bye.” Was all Patrick managed. He let go as well and the boys were stood chest-to-chest, staring at each other.

When Pete turned away, Patrick’s mother had to come over and detach him from Pete, holding him back as he walked away.

”Wait!” Patrick said as loud as he could. His yell came out raspy and not as loud as he wanted, but it still got Pete’s attention.

Patrick ripped himself from his mother’s grasp. Pete turned towards Patrick and Patrick ran up to him, wrapping his arms around Pete’s neck.

”I love you,” Patrick said.

Pete sighed softly, stroking Patrick’s hair and pulling him into one last kiss.

”I love you too, Pat.” He said. Patrick tried to smile at him before he left. Pete smiled back, pulling away from Patrick and getting into his car.

Patrick’s mother stood next to him, her arm around his shoulders as he cried. “I’m gonna miss him so much, mom.” He said, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

She shushed him quietly, holding him and rocking him gently. “It’s going to be okay, Patrick. It’s going to be okay.”

❀

Two months later, Patrick went to the dock near his house, sitting on the edge of it and taking his shoes and socks off. He rolled up the bottoms of his jeans and put his feet in the water, holding the box in his lap tightly.

The box contained a few of Pete’s poems that he’d written, some Polaroid pictures of the two of them, and a bracelet Pete had given to him when they had first become friends.

Patrick’s bracelet said “Best” and Pete’s said “Friends.” It had originally been a joke but the two of them started wearing them, and it had become something important to both of them.

Patrick had sent three letters, four emails, and six texts to Pete. He’d called him twice. Pete hadn’t responded to anything, and at first, Patrick was heartbroken. It still hurt a little to know that Pete no longer cared about him, but the pain was more of a dull ache than the burning, stinging feeling it had been at first.

Patrick tied a few heavy rocks onto the box with some twine and locked the box with the key he had brought with him. After taking a deep breath, he threw the box into the lake.

With trembling hands, he threaded a piece of twine through the hole on the key and made a knot at the back of it. He put it over his head, feeling the metal of the key cold on his neck.

Every day since Pete had left, Patrick had written: “I am missing you to death.” On a piece of paper before crumbling it and throwing it into the lake. His goal was to never do that again.

It had taken a lot of courage to throw the box away, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw the key too.

He was proud of himself, though; he had finally let go of Pete.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahhahahsjskkskskksksn sorry this is sad lol. If y’all want a part two I’ll probably do it, and it’ll explain what Pete’s up to after he moves away from Patrick.


End file.
